The Meeting of Three Powers, and what came of it
by Heliopause
Summary: They had gathered to bring peace to a disordered world, but unexpected revelations threatened new upheavals—of another kind entirely. This story was first published in the Narnia Fic Exchange 2013 on LiveJournal, as a gift for OldFashionedGirl95, aka pencildragon11. Rated T for very mild sexual references. Many thanks to lovely beta reader, greaves, aka runesnspoons. :D


**~oOo~**

**_Prologue: an aged Tarkaan speaks to his son:_**

My son, men's lives melt away like the desert frost at sunrise, but service to a sovereign endures. It is the delight of my age that you have been called to that service which has eaten my years and my strength; hearken, therefore, piece by piece as these fragments occur to me, to such memories of my service as may teach you somewhat of the ways of court, and thus enable you to serve better the Tisroc (_may he live forever!_), the Peacemaker, who has been granted to us by the gods, the mighty ones, the ineffable, the beyond perceiving.

Alas, alas! My heart yearns to give much to you, my son! But how truly that poet spoke, who said that the memory of the old is shaken as by winter wind, scattering thoughts like leaves, and presaging no harvest. I now should tell you in due order of the Meeting of Three Powers, called at a time when the world was breaking, when the King and Queen of the North came suppliant to Calormen, a wondrous and most secret Meeting whereby our Tisroc (_may he live for ever!_) made peace in all the world, and whereby also many matters of trade and policy were reordered. But these weightier matters fall away, and only the ending of that visit is in my mind, a poor fragment only of all that came to pass in those days. Nevertheless, what little I have, I tell to you that you may think on it, and store it up, and mayhap it will be of use to you in the courts of Tashbaan.

This memory is from the early days of the career of our Tisroc (_may he live forever!_) when he was still a young man, as old men count young, though already the father of those princes who have now grown to delight the eyes of all Calormen. It is of the last day of that extraordinary joint state visit, an encounter and an ending most strange, and unprecedented in high visits of state. I have pondered long what it might mean, but have never yet spoken of it. The Tisroc (_may he live forever!_) was not then, as he is not now, a man to allow such speaking; neither for nor against the barbarian queen would he permit it. Learn from this, my son!

The day was far advanced, perhaps two hours only before sunset. I stood in service at the left hand of Ahoshta, Grand Vizier of those days, when the tall queen, slender and graceful as a lily, entered the hall in all haste, as it seemed, and swept low, most gracefully, in the Northern fashion.

She spoke in haste, too, as it seemed to me, though her eyes laughed, as well.

"My lord Tisroc, Rabadash that was!"

He frowned, and rightly, for there is but the one Tisroc, and while there may be a name before his reign, and after, throughout his reign he is Tisroc, and that is all. But there was bewitchment in her eyes, and in the perfume of her hair, and the Tisroc (_may he live forever!_) did not unleash the lightning of his eyes, but let the foreign queen stand on her feet before him, and speak.

"My lord, I ask a gift of you. For the old wrongs between us, and the even older kindness between us, and for the sake of our three countries, I ask a gift."

"A gift? After all that has passed?"

"Yes, and a princely gift, my lord, worthy of a great ruler. I ask you for the gift of two of the swiftest horses in your stable, Lord Tisroc, the best-bred, the swiftest and the most ready for hard riding, to be given into my hand at the north gate of Tashbaan an hour before sunset this day."

"At the northern gate?" and his eyes glittered as he spoke. "You ask more than a queen's ransom, Susan of Narnia."

"Yes."

And now it was very clear to us all that there was bewitchment at work, since she dared thus to speak a single word, not even calling him Lord.

He spoke slow, and we who knew him trembled at his tone, fearing for the terrors we might witness that day.

"Generosity is not the virtue of my house, _barbarian_."

But she was unafraid, and laughed aloud, even in his very presence! and said "Oh, _more_ than generosity, my lord! This will be _munificence!_"

"_Munificence_..." And still he spoke slowly, as if, mayhap, the word itself enchanted him.

She stepped towards him and the laughter was gone now from her face. Her enchantments were I think on all of us, for it seemed to me that her loveliness was more radiant than I can say, with a calm, steady beauty, as the full moon shining, and her voice, too, was full and beauteous and she spoke steadily.

"This is your chance, my lord Tisroc, to give. There is freedom in the gift, for you as for us. I counsel you most earnestly, by all that once was between us, not to let slip this chance."

And the Tisroc (_may he live forever!_) looked narrowly at her, and truly, any but this foreign queen would have fallen to the ground with terror, but she stood still, not laughing, but smiling a little, as if it were she who offered him a gift of great value.

And finally he said, and his voice was like the voice of Tash in its anger and its power, "Let it be as she has asked. The best two horses in my stables, the _best_ in wind and in speed and in endurance, to be yielded to the hands of this lady an hour before sunset, at the north gate of Tashbaan. Let there be no doubting that as I speak, so it be done."

So the Tisroc (_may he live forever!_) had spoken and so it was done. And that was the ending of that strange visit from the Northerners. On the morrow, it seemed they had gone, but where and why we did not dare to ask. The judicious peasant turns his eyes away from seeing the tiger.

Only that it was whispered to me that the Tisroc (_may he live forever!_) went to the tower of Ushemoth in the night, and looked long to the North, and said once, between his teeth, "And now I am quit of you, Susan the Gentle, and all debts are paid."

**I**

The Meeting of Three Powers was called for no light matter.

The relations between Narnia, Archenland and Calormen had been greatly damaged by the rapid sequence of events in the closing years of the old Tisroc's reign. The pointed, irrevocable insult of the flight of the _Splendour Hyaline_, and the outrage of an attack on Anvard in time of peace, had shattered the complex and delicate mechanism of the world's diplomacy. The devastating consequence to the Tisroc's heir, and the subsequent upheavals in internal Calormene politics had completed the ruin. Not only those great nations, but the smaller states, the distant outposts of empire, and the border states suffered alike, grappling with the new uncertainties and instabilities.

With the passage of time, and with the death of the old Tisroc, and the succession of his eldest son to the throne, and even more the marriage of that son, and the birth to him of two more heirs, there was a re-opening of some exchange, and embassages and trade vessels began to travel again. Nevertheless, the shadow of resentments, uncertainties and fears still clouded the whole world's dealings, state to state, and even within states.

At sea, allegiances were quickly reshuffled, so that a ship having traded in one demesne would rebadge itself as belonging to another, evading all controls. On land, borders which had been stable for centuries were tested, each time by some small action which was disavowed by the great power which lay behind it, but each time leaving an additional featherweight of unease, and of war-readiness. Uneasiness between states became hostility between people, so that one visibly of Galman stock might be jostled and hustled in a village on Bren, or one dressed as Calormene might be catcalled or spat at in Narrowhaven. This strangeness grew, and it was reported that a Narnian Faun had been set upon and cruelly beaten, purely for the shape of his body, in the winding streets of Zalindreh.

This last news came to Cair Paravel. A most solemn meeting was held of the Great Council, and after it the kings and queens withdrew, to consider of these matters unattended. They sat in silence a little while, and then the High King spoke.

"This has gone on long enough. We can protect our own people, and we will do so, but we need to do more than that. These outrages in far places must be addressed."

King Edmund the Just moved as if to speak, but the clear, cool voice of Queen Susan was first heard.

"The root of the poison is not in the far places, brother, but closer to home. Narnia and Calormen are the two most powerful nations in the world, and Archenland is the world's most ancient and peaceful monarchy. This unease between the three of us has thrown the whole world out of joint."

"My sister eyes the very source of our troubles—or the world's troubles, I could say." King Edmund agreed.

"And never did that sister eye target, but she drew bow, and never did she draw bow but she hit the mark!" interposed Queen Lucy. "Therefore, I judge you have some plan, Susan."

"I have. This matter has been on my mind for many months, as we have seen hostilities grow. What is needed is a meeting of our three countries, at the highest level, a private and personal meeting."

"At the highest level, Susan? Sovereign to sovereign, you would say? With one, or more, or all four of us?" Queen Lucy asked.

"With one only. Lune has reigned alone now these ten years. It would ill sort for Narnia to bring four, or even two, sovereigns to such a meeting, when Archenland can only bring one."

"And the Tisroc?" the High King queried. "I suppose that this meeting must needs be in Tashbaan, since Rabadash may not stir more than ten miles thence without great consequence."

"His is a long punishment, and hard for such a proud man; it is for us to help him to bear it, Peter. Yes, we will meet in Tashbaan."

"He should bear it alone, for me!" the High King growled.

His brother frowned a little, but merely said, "And by that word _we_, I take it that my sister intends herself to be Narnia's emissary."

"I do, Edmund!"

"Are you sure?"

His eyebrows were raised in questioning. No more words were needed. All four of them remembered the dangers which had threatened the queen in Tashbaan, five years since.

"Quite sure, dear brother! I am, for one thing, five years closer to wisdom than I was then."

"And is Rabadash similarly advanced?" King Peter asked, bitingly.

"He is, at any rate, I am sure, too wise to attempt again any outrage either on my person, or on my sovereignty. Try to forgive, brother! And do him justice. Indeed, he acted very foolishly then, and has been punished as a fool, but he himself is, as he always was in other matters, a clever and politically shrewd man."

Her brothers looked unconvinced, but Queen Lucy remembered the previous visit of the Calormene prince to the Narnian court, and how his histories, conversings, and wit, at that time not yet overthrown by the prickings of furious desire, had captivated her sister then.

"It is true," she said now. "Rabadash may still harbour resentment, which is not wise, but his own intelligence would hold him back from offering any further insult to our sister, especially on an occasion of such moment."

Queen Susan smiled her thanks, and went on, "Moreover, I do not put my confidence in Rabadash alone for my protection."

"You mean Lune?" King Peter asked. "He is a skilled warrior and I would certainly trust him to protect—"

Her eyes flashed. "Not _Lune_ indeed! If it came to combat, I trust I can protect my _own_ skin, whether by knife or bow or my plain hands! I meant rather that I trust our great Overlord, whose breath is ever on us all. I don't doubt that to make peace in our world is his work, and that he will protect me as I do it."

"Well said!" Queen Lucy exclaimed, but the High King moved uneasily.

"You speak as if you plan to take no retinue, no guards."

"And so I do plan, High King. I have thought long on this, and the more so since I was so closely part of the making of this unhappiness. I plan no retinue, no guards, no secretaries and no courtiers. This is not a hammering out of treaty or trade or peace after war; the need is not for parchments or swaggering, but for simplicity and directness. It seems to me—"

She stopped, and they waited in silent courtesy until she had chosen her words, and continued.

"It seems to me that our sovereignty, and mayhap Lune's also, and mayhap that of Rabadash also (since who can know the Lion's dealing with another land?) is not merely a matter of leading our people, but that we in ourselves carry something of Narnia's well-being, and if we ourselves, in ourselves, are untuned, even in the slightest, a disharmony spreads across the land as well."

"I take your point, sister," the High King mused. "I do not know if it be so, but I see how it might be."

"Such untuning—may it not come from holding old hurts, or old angers, or even old guilts? My hope is that we may meet, Rabadash and Lune and I, as three equals, three sovereigns of three sovereign lands, but also as three vulnerable beings, acknowledging hurts, and offering healing, one to the other, and thus—oh I hope so _much_ in the Lion's name that we may!—begin a healing in our countries."

The High King looked deeply thoughtful. "This... it is a very bold proposal, Susan. _Parchments and swaggerings_—a hit there, I think, Edmund!—are much the more usual way."

King Edmund answered, with the ghost of a smile. "A hit right and left! But though our ways are more usual, I think... I _think_ they will not avail us here."

"It is bold, but our sister flies true as an arrow to the heart of things. You have my voice and blessing in this, Susan," said Queen Lucy.

"And mine," said the High King with finality. "Moreover, I salute your courage. This will be no easy meeting, I suspect."

**II**

The Meeting was convened.

King Lune and Queen Susan came, separately and unattended, to the Tashbaan wharves, and passed with no pomp to the apartments set aside for them. It made a marvel throughout the Tisroc's court, that it should be so, that two sovereigns should come so privately to confer with the Tisroc. There was much speculation as to what high and sombre matter could be afoot, that they should meet thus, almost secretly, in the old palace, where pale marble glimmered amid shadows, and cool breezes blew through empty corridors, and no courtiers dared to come unbidden.

Rabadash had arranged it well, Queen Susan assessed. Privacy was essential if such talks as she purposed were to come about. The room had been set with three chairs, at a round table; matters had been so arranged that all three sovereigns arrived at once, and took their place together. That the Tisroc had brought a small cluster of his most trusted counsellors and body-servants with him was perhaps only to have been expected; she hoped that her own example (_and Lune's! his ready comprehension of the style and purpose of these talks had been a great source of strength to her during the first negotiations_) would soon show him that openness and trust could expedite matters.

Though indeed, the Tisroc's opening words did not bode well. He looked across the table, and spoke in high, rapid tones, as one who would finish a distasteful business as soon as possible.

"Well, Madam? I have done as you requested. We three are met. Whatever great matter you two have come to propose, propose it now."

"Lord Tisroc," replied King Lune, "it is not to propose, but to confer and rework, that we have come. We have come, as you have received us, for the good of our three realms."

"Realms! Do you call your paltry state a _realm?_ I have provinces larger than your whole land."

"Rabadash—" began Susan, but Lune had already begun to reply, unperturbed.

"True. And therefore you have the more interest in making peace through the world. Lord Tisroc, I esteem the efficiency of your ambassadors and counsellors highly. I know that you are well aware that peace is eroding throughout the world, even between groups in our own nations."

"What of it? The world has its seasons, of war as of peace. Calormen is relentless in war, as we are merciful in peace. War holds no fear for us."

"I will not discuss how far that is true, Lord Tisroc," said the Queen, drily. "Nevertheless, even if Calormen did not fear war, I think you, yourself, would not wish to see war. Is it not in war that great Tarkaans tread closer and ever closer to the throne?"

His hooded eyes fixed on her; she wondered if he remembered, as she did, his long, fascinating discourses, years ago in Cair Paravel, on the shifting politics of his own family's history, and of the many Tisrocs who had won the throne by gathering reputation and followers in the wars. Perhaps he did remember, for though he did not reply to her, his face darkened, and he spoke sharply to the counsellors and servants behind.

"Leave us!"

The counsellors and body-servants withdrew, and the three powers were alone, save for the two deaf-mute guards who accompanied the Tisroc always. Courtesy forbade any comment; but Queen Susan was well aware that King Lune, as much as she, was glad that Rabadash's reluctance that a plain fact should be brought out openly before his underlings had thus won them the privacy they surely needed for these talks to succeed.

As the door closed, the Tisroc flung himself back in his chair and gestured to the visitors to speak again. King Lune began.

"Lord Tisroc, you know that peace is more than the absence of war. There is no war between us, but I would have, and this lady would have, peace."

He looked courteously at Queen Susan, and she nodded her thanks, and began in turn.

"My lord, I will speak plain. The scars of what passed between you and me, and between you and King Lune, still catch at the free interplay between our countries. Now we three need to reconsider how our lands will deal with each other, if we are to have peace and not war."

"What _dealings_ would you _reconsider?_" He was attempting a purposeless mockery; she ignored his tone, and pressed on.

"I believe that old resentments grow like weeds, choking our nations' dealings with each other. I would have us pluck them out, and then reconsider together every aspect of our dealings, as trade, travel, or even what we find strange each in the other. For this reason, I have asked for this three-cornered conference."

He shrugged. "As you will. I cannot see what good can come of it. Friendship between nations is not something which can be built, least of all by inexperienced meddlers. But my empire runs well; I can afford to indulge this second bout of time-wasting—for this is not the first time I have tried to make friendship with frigid Narnia."

The look he cast at Susan made his meaning very clear; she kept her face still, but felt a moment's tension. Would Lune be able—as she thought neither of her brothers could, nor even Lucy, perhaps—to hold back a sharp response in defence of one who would much prefer that the insult be let fall, harmlessly?

And then had come, she thought, a perfect response from the king: temperate, courteous, but steel-hard in keeping to the matter in hand, and pointing the way forward by reminding them all that relationships had been successfully rebuilt in the past.

"Nor, Lord Tisroc, is this the first time that Queen Susan has worked to rebuild a friendship between nations. I have seen her build up again from the very foundations a friendship ground away by one hundred years' of strangeness and bitter resentments. Be assured, she and I will bring all the experience of that time to this business here, that we three may be as successful as—" his voice stopped for an instant, and Susan's heart ached suddenly; _as we seven were in the past_, she thought, but the king continued otherwise: "—as Narnia and Archenland were then."

_How dearly it must have cost him to recall that happy time_, Susan thought to herself, remembering the work he meant, of rebuilding the ties between Narnia and Archenland after one hundred years of separation, one hundred years of resentment that the old alliance had been useless against the Witch, one hundred years of resentment of refugees who drained resources, but would not offer heart's allegiance to the country which had given them shelter.

Unpicking those resentments and rebuilding the alliance had been a work of years, and, in the end, a triumph. But the triumph had been not hers, she thought, but that of his own dear queen, dead these ten years now—open-hearted, loving Corinna, who had welcomed her so warmly, when she had first visited Anvard, as emissary of Narnia, to find waiting for her there a friend, a Queen not ten years older than herself.

"I love the warmth of Anvard, Queen Corinna," she had said then. "At least _your_ castle never has been touched by winter, or by sorrow."

And she remembered Corinna's answer: "Ah, Queen, no country is untouched by sorrow. But let us not talk of past, sad matters, but look to the future."

"I can't imagine any ill future, here, with Lune and little Corin by," she had chattered, heedlessly. (_How young she had been then! But Corinna had not felt fit to darken the day by telling of the great sorrow which befallen Anvard already._)

The older woman had smiled. "We will look not to an imagined future, but the real one; we have work to do!"

"The work of re-establishing diplomacy? I know our two countries grew apart over those many years of winter."

"Yes, inevitably. But now we have the happy task of reknitting what has been unravelled!" Archenland's Queen had looked up from her work, which was indeed knitting up the torn sleeve of a jerkin, belonging to two-year-old Corin, and they had laughed together, before Corinna went on.

"It is my hope, Queen Susan, that from the six of us, from two at Anvard and four at Cair Paravel, friendship can strike and regrow between our countries."

And Susan remembered how she had cried out in delight, then. "From the six of us? Why not say from the _seven_ of us? I love your little son already, like my own nephew! Oh, Corinna! What _years_ of pleasure we will have remaking friendship between our peoples!"

But death had intervened all too soon; Corinna had left them, and seven had become six.

**III**

The Tisroc had been angry and resistant. Still, that first day's work had not been in vain. Little by little Rabadash had been forced to accept that rebuilding friendship between countries was possible, and that she and Lune were experienced in such work. He acquiesced, at least, in agreeing to talk through those places—as trade, border relations, security of travellers and the like—where the old sores were catching, if not to talk about the causes of those hurts.

"None of your ballad-singer slanders!" he said flatly, in reply to her suggestion that they begin by opening freely to each other about what had passed. "You of the North tell the tale differently from what is written in our archives; we know the truth, for it is written by our own archivists, who are sworn to the truth."

She smiled at that—the prevarication was like a child's—but only said, "You are wiser than you let yourself appear, Rabadash."

His grimace to that was _very_ like a child's! she thought. But he had at least acquiesced in discussing the current results of the events, and that was all she needed to begin.

"Then, King Lune, Lord Tisroc," and she glanced at each in turn, "if we may not touch yet on that business, I suggest we consider how there has been a growing anger between the peoples of our different lands. We have seen before how hostility to nations or kings finds release in insults or bullying of individual travellers."

"Yes, yes. I know it is as you said yesterday! You two have seen this before, have rebuilt friendship between nations before. I have heard, and I do not need to hear again."

"Then I shall not say it again!" she smiled. "What is new these past five years is the shift to cruelty based purely on appearance or body shape or colour. This change is cracking apart our world, and we all have interest in mending that.

"Hitherto, it seems to me, difference has been a cause of interest, and even delight, as our Narnians have delighted in the difference and strangeness of the merpeople. But now, it feels that things are changing; while Archenland remains open to all different sorts of people, other countries are withdrawing into only acknowledging the value of their own sort.

"If we three can demonstrate that the uneasiness between us does not rub out such delight in difference—"

"Such _pretty_ words!" Rabadash broke in, pettishly. "But though Archenland may be perverse in its alliances, I doubt that any _truly_ human country—as Telmar, Calormen, Galma, the islands which Narnia _claims_, but may not hold long in this new world—will continue to bear with the unhuman ways of Narnia. The shifts you see in the world are perhaps not from uneasiness between us alone, Madam, but uneasiness when _humans_ see strange half-bred creatures clatter in the very halls of Cair Paravel. It sickened me to see it! The rank sweat of horse-men caught in my nostrils, or the ranker stink of goats—"

And _that_ affront was aimed at Tumnus, Susan recognised. And since he knew Tumnus chiefly as the counsellor who had accompanied her five years ago... how foolish Rabadash was to imagine, or pretend to imagine, that these hostilities did not grow from those events!

Nevertheless, he must not be permitted to divert the talks by such folly. She silenced him with one sharp tap on the table, saying, "Insult ill becomes the counsel of kings, Rabadash!"

He did look a little abashed at that rebuke, and she seized the chance to remind him of what he knew she knew about _strange creatures_ and _unhuman ways_.

"Narnia is indeed blessed to know many ways of being. But I have heard tell, Lord Tisroc,"—and well she remembered the long tales he had poured in her ears!— "of strange beings even in anxiously-human Calormen! I have heard tell of the sand-wraiths—are they not called _ghouls_ by some? Or how Teebeth was delivered into Calormene hands, at the end, by the night attack of the Hyenas, not by Human troops alone—and Calormen has great traffic with those singing creatures of the southern seas, with human face but many-coloured wings, and cruel talons! They have dealt death to many, and only Calormen has found a way to deal with them, with great effect in the expansion of your empire."

The Tisroc's mouth twitched briefly, in a secretive, satisfied smile. She noted that, and knew without looking that Lune also had noted it (_oh, he was good to work with! without words, they knew what each other was thinking!_) but drove on with her main argument.

"_Therefore_, Rabadash, you will _not_ attempt to further ruin the world's fragile peace by setting light to passions dividing human and not-human, since if you do, you will find that the torch burns back against the torch-bearer!"

Rabadash had subsided then, and Lune had sent her a quick, warm smile, a smile which had seemed to mean something more than simple support and applause for her handling of the Tisroc's attempt to foster ill-will. It was not until she was brushing her hair that evening, readying for sleep, that the memory suddenly swept back.

Of course! It had been his own words, Lune's own words, that she had been quoting. That time when his young son, at eight years old, had tried to start a 'war' between the boys of his own age, and the young Fauns of the visiting Narnian delegation.

"You must be careful where you try to set enmity between people, Corin, whether human or not-human," Lune had said. "Remember, lad, it's like putting a lighted torch into dry brushwood; it can be very exciting, but the torch will often enough burn back against the torch-bearer."

And young Corin—oh, the dear, sorrow-struck lad! he had been so angry with the whole world because his mother had been taken from them; he had wanted the whole of his little world to be angry around him. Her heart was sore even now with that memory, though there was balm in remembering Lune's love and wisdom as he steered his son with a sure hand towards being the more chivalrous youth of later years. And there was balm, too, she thought, pausing in her calm, meditative task, in remembering what a privilege it had been for her to be part of that work, to have been taken into that little, grieving family as its closest, most loved and needed friend.

**IV**

"We make progress, Susan," Lune said to her the next morning, when they met in the shared salon ante-room of their apartments. "Rabadash has conceded that the hostility between peoples must be diminished, if this world is to hold together."

"He is no fool, for all that he has acted foolishly at times."

"I cannot say I have seen much wisdom in him," Lune replied, drily.

You have not known him as I knew him, Susan wanted to say, but left it unsaid. Instead:

"He did at least take the point that our own actions in that matter will have impact. His suggestion that Narnia send a _creature_ as ambassador to Tashbaan showed that, even if it also showed that his prejudice will not be uprooted easily."

"Yes. And for today's talks?"

"I thought to use the discussion of strange creatures to lead us into maritime matters. He showed yesterday that he is well aware of how Calormen in the past has used those winged beings, to keep monopoly of access to the southern seas and islands."

Lune clenched one fist, and then slowly unclenched it again.

_His brother_, Susan thought, _lost at sea, and no tale ever told of why or how_. But though there might be pain for all of them in these talks, they were essential to restore the balance of things. She began to sort out the charts which might be useful in the talks, to give the king time to return to calm.

She was glad that he was his usual steady, clear self when the day's discussions began, and that he had the calm to raise that matter of Calormen's secret knowledge of how to deal with those nameless beings.

"It is not right, Lord Tisroc, that Calormen conceals the knowledge which might save lives. Sea-voyages are dangerous enough, for all peoples. We all have interest in sharing knowledge which would make voyaging safe, from whatever port on whatever errand."

Rabadash was offhand, blandly complacent. "I disagree. Lives may well be saved by this concealment. No one thinks to invade our southern coasts now! What lives might be lost if we abandoned this safeguard?"

"You call them _your_ southern coasts, but they were not so formerly!" Lune pointed out. "Calormen expands yearly, using this knowledge!"

"What does _Archenland_ know of empire?" the Tisroc countered, contemptuously. "Narnia, however,"—changing his attack with the speed of a scorpion—"for hundreds of years, until the late Empress put a stop to expansion, Narnia has been reaching her tentacles farther and farther east."

Susan was obliged to pause to gather her calm again; this slander was intended as diversion and she would not be diverted.

"My lords! The matter before us is the possibility of shared knowledge for safety on the seas. We should consider not only these winged beings, but the mapping of known reefs, and also how to share knowledge of shifting shoals in coastal waters and in rivers used for navigation—"

"The dirt and shoals of Arrowmouth harbour are notorious; if Anvard would shift itself to line the river—"

"Our own fishermen can guide foreign vessels as they need; we need not line the banks with marble as Calormen did, so that great vessels can navigate safely—"

_Navigate safely even by night_, Queen Susan thought, remembering a ship which had fled by night to the sea, secretly, slipping between the marble-lined banks of the deep, green Calormen river. She raised her eyes to Rabadash. He, too, was remembering, but he scowled a warning; he wanted no reference, no hint, even, of that time. _The chance is drifting past us_, she thought, sadly. We cannot reconcile if we cannot even mention those times.

Maritime safety, maritime travel, maritime borders... The work went on. It was a laborious process, made heavier by Rabadash's determined resistance.

When they broke in their deliberations she tried once again to speak to him, privately.

"Rabadash, you are better than this! Work with us!"

"Work with _you_, perhaps, Queen," he said, spitefully, "but it sticks in my throat to deal with that yokel. He reeks of the farmyard, I think. Farmyard Anvard."

"Rabadash, I will _not_ let you abuse the best man I know. Moreover, you lessen yourself in doing so, in railing against one so incomparably noble, honest, wise, strong..."

He opened his mouth to reply, but she swept on, not giving him a chance to make things worse; it was beyond imagining that Lune had not heard the exchange, but that could not be helped.

"Do _not_ do so. If you cannot take this chance to learn from so great a man, at least do not show yourself so petty, so much less than you can be! I _know_ you are better than that. And now, to work!"

He had looked hard at her then, but said no more.

**V**

The mornings and the afternoons and the days passed, until, incredibly, their time was finishing.

Discussions had gone well enough, though limited, and still never getting to the root of the matter, Susan thought. Sea-borders, land-borders, the problems of hostility between peoples, expansion, smuggling, and matters of trade had been discussed, coming finally to the matter of trade in weapons. Rabadash had tried to avoid it, but Lune kept him to the task, patiently and logically detailing the steps by which the decay in oversight of the trade in arms, and even in defensive armoury, showed in repercussions on the safety and security of persons living far from either of the countries involved in the trade.

"The use of Calormene shipyards to plate foreign ships is a case in point, Lord Tisroc. Such armour-plated ships have lately been used in the slave trade. Armoured slavers have harassed the fishing fleets of Muil."

"What is that to Calormen? Or what is it to Narnia or Archenland either? Why should we care about this pettiness?"

"Because my lord," Queen Susan replied, "we will not have the world further shaken. These last years have seen refugees flying, cruelties carried out and hostilities growing between people. The links from each pettiness to great consequence are clear."

"As these reports show, Lord Tisroc," Lune said, gesturing to the maps, charts and reports which lay on the table before them, "the fears in Muil have seen arise a counter-force, which has greatly disrupted for us all the sea-route to Galma. And the sufferings of the slaves, even to death—"

"They are slaves. What is it to any of us if a man beats his own dog to death, or cuts down his own forest? If I order one of these,"—he glanced carelessly, at the two deaf mutes who stood beside the door—"to cut down the other, now, would either of you try to say me nay?"

Lune's eyes were suddenly ice-cold, transfixing the Tisroc as by bodkin-point.

"I do _not_ advise it," he said, and each word was sounded very precisely, with unmistakeable, menacing intensity.

Rabadash stopped in shock, his mouth slightly agape.

_In his own palace_, Susan thought, _with two sworn protectors in the room, and an army within call, but still silenced, visibly cowed, by Lune_. And she herself felt she was seeing a side of Lune she had not known before. She was so used to finding in him the comfortable companion of long afternoon rambles, of quiet evenings playing at chess, or simply feeding pinecones to the fire in the solar at Anvard. This man, speaking with grim, indisputable authority in defence of the defenceless, was something greater than she had known until this day.

"We have slaves and you do not," Rabadash muttered. "We do not insist that you should adopt _our_ ways. What concern is it of any other land how we govern ourselves in Calormen?"

"It is, we judge, properly a matter of concern to all," Lune replied, "but we accept, Lord Tisroc, that slavery within Calormen, though abhorrent to us, is beyond our province to change."

There was an infinitesimal pause. Susan felt suddenly, sickeningly, a misgiving. If she had married Rabadash, perhaps all this would have been within her power to change. Did Lune think she had done ill, not to seize that possibility?

"It is beyond our province to change," Lune continued, "but understand that Archenland will _not_ tolerate any longer your fostering and protecting this vile traffic beyond your borders."

And that was too like an intimation of war, Susan thought. She needed to bring the conversation back to a less antagonistic frame, to be about working together, not clashing.

"The deep unhappiness of slaves necessarily spreads unhappiness into whatever country deals in slavery. I would very gladly work with you, my lord, to find the way that Calormen, without this unhappy system, could remade into a happier land," she said, and then wondered if that had been unwise.

"The chance of _that_, Madam, withered five years ago," Rabadash retorted, bitterly.

Yes, perhaps unwise. But he was also of his own will, now, alluding to those matters he had said he would not discuss; it was an opening. Perhaps good could come of it, if they could pause for a little, to let tempers cool.

"My lords, let us reconsider these reports before we go further in discussion," she said, to give them all breathing-space. "There is much here that we have not yet assessed in full."

The two men agreed, and for a time a silence fell. There was indeed much of value in the reports, especially when set alongside the maps, and the tables of imports and exports. Susan grew absorbed in what was before her.

The afternoon began to ebb, marked only by quiet sussuration as papers and parchment passed across the table. After a time, the Tisroc rose, and walked, as if by chance, close by the Narnian Queen as she sat, scanning maps, trade routes and lists of markets, and stood, looking down over her shoulder. Across the table King Lune glanced up, and then down again, to the papers which lay in front of him.

"Susan." The word was breathed, rather than spoken, and she looked up, startled.

"My lord Tisroc?"

"Susan, five years ago..."

She was all alert, instantly. There was in his lowered voice the ache of yearning, unfulfilled.

This man wanted to be able to have no need of her, she knew. He had, for years now, wanted that so much that he had pretended that it was reality. But if he was beginning to let himself see that he wanted her, or wanted some reassurance from her, if he could accept himself as vulnerable, perhaps then they could meet at last as two fallible people who had hurt each other terribly, and find their way to acknowledgement of wrongs, and to forgiveness.

"Yes, my lord? You would say...?"

"Susan... Did you so much hate Calormen? In Narnia you would have come to me, but when you saw my palace and my people, then you... fled."

_Oh!_ and suddenly she saw terrible gulfs of misunderstanding, of things that must have been eating at him for these five years. Though his wanting to think it was his country she had refused, not himself—that was so much the old Rabadash, refusing to acknowledge what he did not want to be real.

"Hate Calormen? Never!"

King Lune looked up from his work again at her exclamation.

"No, I loved your country and your people. I remember so fondly so many things about this land!"

"Even the climate? Narnia is cool and green—"

"I _loved_ the warmth here! The warmth of the sun beating down on the marble benches and little lizards basking in it, still as cast-bronze lizards might be, and those dry burning spice-laden winds from the desert, oh, and the languorous midday drowsings, those sweet hours of gentleness and friendship with the Tarkeenahs and their maids, their subtle, complex tales, and their soft laughter and warm openness..."

"Was it...they are not like Narnian women, I know."

"I _loved_ them! It cut me deep to leave them without a farewell, after their kindness and readiness to welcome me here. "

"But you did leave."

"Yes, but left knowing how wonderful your land and your people are. All of those things I have said already, and more! The quietness of the moon-washed nights, when I could linger and hear little ripplings of the fountains in the cypress-gardens, and the poetry and music, and the centuries of Calormene culture and scholarship, and...

"Things boorish _Archenland_ cannot offer!" Rabadash spoke roughly, and almost angrily.

Susan blinked in surprise. What had Archenland to do with this? But the sound of his country's name seemed to have caught Lune's attention. She smiled at him, apologetically, and then answered the Tisroc.

"No, there are glories here not to be found in Archenland, nor in Narnia."

"Then—"

There was the scraping of a chair. Lune had risen.

"Lord Tisroc, Queen Susan! I pray you, give me leave. I think I have left some of these papers in our salon. I must find them now, to be better prepared for our next meeting, since it is our last."

His smile, as he left the room... Susan appreciated so much that his smile, even if it had a shade of sadness about it, could say to her that she had his full confidence and trust, to deal with Rabadash alone.

She turned back to the Tisroc. "Rabadash, let us be honest with each other. Truly, I liked you well, when we first met, and I liked your country and your people well. But what I saw then fits too closely with our talks here this morning. I saw how you thought of slaves, I saw how you treated them, with contempt and with cruelty." Her eyes were gentle, for the hard words she must say; if things were to change, he must hear the truth. "I saw that to your people, you were, as you would be to a wife, a tyrant, violent and merciless."

_Merciless._ But she must be merciless in speaking the truth, she thought, watching the struggle between devastation and rising fury in his face.

"I was right to leave, right to refuse you, and all that you would have given me, in learning to know your country and your people. That gift came with too high a price. But in my youthfulness, I did not know that men might change, and that whole countries might be changed, with skill and patience. And was it not the case, my lord, that you in your youthfulness and hot blood, were not at that time open to change? I have even wondered if that change of body which came on you was not, as it seemed, to punish you, or not that only, but to signal the wonder that you could indeed, and _can_, accomplish a far greater change..."

A mistake.

She saw humiliation, resentment, fear, all twist together, to become overmastering anger in him.

"By Tash, Madam, you play with danger," he snarled, "if you think to taunt me by these fairy tales!"

"Fairy tales?"

But an instant after she knew; as he wanted to deny that he had loved her, so he wanted to deny the encounter which he saw as humiliation and shame. _It was no shame!_ she longed to cry out to him. _That the Lion came to you, and gave teaching for you yourself, you alone, is an honour few have known! _

But the gulf between them was too wide, and the tangle of feelings between them was too strong. Some other courier would have to carry him that message.

**VI**

Lune had not asked what had transpired, offering only calm and quiet when she had returned to their apartments, though some time after, he said, perhaps in an attempt to cheer her, "I think you are right, that Rabadash is no fool. This last meeting he has heard the limits of our patience, and will not risk war, since he cannot lead in battle. And we have learned that we cannot change matters immediately inside Calormen, but must work more slowly to remake the world."

"Yes." She mustered up a smile. "I think, truly, Lune, that the world we are remaking from those unhappy events five years back will be a better one than was then, if not as truly resolved as I had hoped."

"Even if we can beat back those cruelties which are newly arisen since then, you will have achieved a very great deal, Susan."

"I?" She looked at him, astonished. "This has been your work, too, Lune!"

"Yes, and his, I suppose." he said, rubbing wearily at his eyes. "Making peace is a work for more than one, and more than two."

Yes, work for them all, she conceded, and weary work. She was glad that they had come almost to her last evening in Tashbaan, that the next day would be their last, and that the morning after that they were to leave, as inconspicuously as they had come, on the morning tide.

The last meeting went for the full morning, and more. They met, went back over each of the understandings reached, set all papers aside in due order; from here it would be work for underlings and officials, to deal with the fine details of how to make happen what the three powers had decided should be done in each case.

It was early afternoon before all was done, before nothing more remained to be said, and they were free to rest and prepare for the next day's departure. Susan gathered together the papers remaining, sorting those which should be returned to the Tisroc's archive from those which could go with them on the morrow to the north. The Tisroc sat gazing at her, glowering, his head resting on one loosely crumpled hand.

King Lune rose, and stretched, and said, "And so we have come to the end of our talking, here, Lord Tisroc. We have achieved much. They will call you Peacemaker, I do not doubt, for what we have done here."

The Tisroc rolled his eyes sideways, towards the king, but made no other acknowledgement.

Susan felt torn between amusement and regret; Lune was trying hard to make the meeting end well, but it was uphill work, against Rabadash's peevishness. For herself, she wanted to try once more to achieve something greater than they had yet managed.

"Peacemaker, indeed! I hope they do so call you, Lord Tisroc! But I feel a sadness, that we have missed a chance to make of this meeting something more, a true reconciling, a true unfolding of our selves to each other."

He shrugged. "You have chosen what you have chosen. For myself, I have had enough of interminable lecturings and moralisings from petty, oafish—"

"Rabadash! It is not useful, it is not wise to speak thus, and to hold these resentments and feed up your own anger. Be _generous!_"

The word seemed to goad him. He started to his feet.

"_Generous?_ Am I _not_ generous? It was not I who would not give, but you who would not take! I laid all the glories of Calormen before you, spread them at your cursed, barbarian, beautiful feet..."

With astonishment, she saw he was nearly weeping. This was not perhaps real grief; it was more akin, she judged, to a child weeping in anger and frustration for what he could not have, but it was still an expression of need. She spoke gently.

"I could not accept those glories, no, since they came with such a price. But I would very gladly accept your friendship, your working with us. This meeting has ended, and we have achieved much, but much is still to be achieved, and we could work together—"

"With an oaf and a barbarian?"

Frustration at his folly overcame her. She cried out, "Oh, be _wise_, Rabadash, for Calormen and for yourself! Truly, I long to see us friends, and our two countries friends, as Narnia and Archenland are friends, or as I am friend of this good king, as brother and sister..."

His words lashed, furiously. "Do you think I am _stupid_, Susan? Do you take me for a _fool?_"

"No, my lord Tisroc." She was puzzled; he was asking her in genuine anger, that was plain, but she did not see _why_ he was angry. She decided to let the anger pass her by, and to answer his question plainly, in all simplicity, without irony.

"No. Twice, indeed, in youth, you acted foolishly. Once, to try to steal from me a gift not offered, and again, to refuse a gift freely held out to you by this good king. But folly is part of youth, and we are all older now, and may be wiser, if we will. I do not take you for a fool."

"Then get to your farewells, Madam, and leave these foolish babblings of _gifts_, and _brother and sister_, when any dullard can see what lies between you and that old man, or rather that nothing lies between those who lie already, I suppose, much closer than brother and sister!"

"What lies between...?" She could not see which way his mind was tending. That Rabadash was juggling with words was clear (_how like the Rabadash of old, who had dazzled her with discourse and poetry and word-juggling, no less than with feats of arms!_) but to what end?

"Pah! This is the Narnian way, with devious weavings and shyings from the point! Here in Calormen we are plain-spoken about the desire between man and woman—_was I not_, Susan? five years back?"

Indeed, he had been, _very_ plain-spoken! And his words had been very powerful. She looked a rebuke to him, but he swept on, heedless.

"And shall I be mealy-mouthed as a Narnian _now_, when you come to my palace with desire, hot as the burning desert sun, written in every lineament, as you look at that uncouth dotard, and he looks at you?"

She opened her mouth to reply, found she had nothing at all to say, and closed it, again. Lune—she glanced quickly to him—he was as thunderstruck as she was! Thunderstruck, because—it was suddenly blindingly clear to her that Rabadash (_truly, he was_ not _a stupid man!_) was putting into words something which had long lain between them in plain sight, but which had been (_Lion's mane! for how long?_) been set aside by matters of great moment, matters of state, matters even such as this (_she felt a wild desire to laugh_) this peace-making, world-mending meeting.

"Rabadash..."

"Pah!" and he had turned and was facing into the wall, like the sulky, overgrown child that he was, she thought. A clever, _clever_ child, who had perceived in an instant that to which two wiser sovereigns had been blind, but—oh, the Lion's blessing! that she had been delivered from a marriage with him!

A clever, sulky child, but he must find his own way now, to make peace with the past. Lion lead him now, for she had done with it. He had shown her something amazing, something which must not be set aside one day longer. No, nor one hour.

**VII**

Lune had left already, had gone before her along the cool, dark corridors of the old palace to their own apartments. She sped after, and reached the door, and went in.

For a little space, when they were together there, just inside the door, she did not speak, and nor did he, nor did they look at one another or reach to one another though they stood so close that each could hear the other's breathing.

Then Lune spoke, in tones of gentle humour, and of wonder, as if he saw with new eyes, and found that which was most known suddenly strange and precious.

"So. Narnia and Archenland are to be closer than sister and brother? Are to be lovers, each of the other, and come together, as man and woman. Is it so, Narnia?"

She lifted her head, very slowly, as if she considered deeply.

"It is odd, is it not, that the man who did me the greatest wrong should be the one who opens up to me the greatest happiness. Yes, Archenland. It is so."

Still, neither of them moved, though the air between them rang with many things not said by either, but understood by both. His breathing came a little faster, and his lips parted, as if to speak, but he spoke not. She turned her head and looked at him fully, and spoke again.

"Yes. But not now, not in this place. This is not the place I choose for our coming together."

Lune reached over then, possessed himself of her hand, and held it. His hand—her gaze fixed on this, on his strong, warm hand, enfolding hers, caressing the soft hollow of her palm, encountering—somehow she _felt_, even without seeing, his loving smile, on encountering them - the uncompromising archer's callouses on her bow-fingers. And now his thumb was stroking, very gently, the back of her hand; his roughened skin grazed, lightly, catching almost imperceptibly, across her silky smoothness, a strangeness and a difference of texture which somehow heightened her absolute awareness of his gradually intensifying touch; at every soft, slow sweep, she felt a shudder of delight.

She looked up, almost shivering at the newness of it all; he smiled at her, and spoke.

"Not here, but perhaps not Narnia, either. We do not have private lives, you and I. But..."

His breathing had deepened; she saw his chest rise and fall, very quickly.

"Susan, I want you, _very_ much. I want you—" And then he closed his lips, tightly.

"You want me as I want you, I imagine. Thank you, my dear, for not unleashing all your wanting in a torrent of words. We don't need that. We have known each other for years, and we are both clear-sighted enough to know now what every throb of the blood in our veins is telling us."

Her gaze fell again to their linked hands. "And certainly you know, Lune, that as you hold my hand, you hold my heart. As you hold my heart, you hold my love and truth, as long as life lasts."

"And as you hold my hand, Susan, you hold my heart, my love and my truth, as long as life lasts."

She closed her eyes, briefly, to feel more fully how his hand moved on hers.

"Then... but not here, Lune... _ah!_"—as her breath caught at his touch—"not in the Tisroc's palace."

"No. Not here. And Susan, not Cair Paravel, not Anvard. I do not wish to take you, as consort, where I am sovereign, nor do I wish to be taken, as consort, where you are sovereign."

And now she had command of herself again. She looked at him, untroubled, and even a little amused. "And so...?"

"And so, dear heart... oh, dear Queen, who deserve all that is most lovely and most easy! Think well. In me there is no loveliness, and I can give you little ease. This is not a young man's body, but one nearer fifty years of age than forty, weather-browned and scarred with old skirmishings. And for our lying together..."

He paused. She waited until he went on.

"Dear heart, for our lying together, I do not offer comfort or ease, but this: there once lived, on the southern march of Archenland, a good old man, a hermit, who has now gone from us. His hermitage was a green and shady place, dewy herb and living green hedge. There is a pool there, and quietness, and a soft couch of heather, and humming bees, and gentleness, and stars by night... He is long gone, but in respect to him, and to keep his memory green, his empty hermitage remains. One day and one night's hard riding would bring us there, if we had horses good for such a ride...

"This would _not_ be fit for you, dear Queen, such a wedding journey. But... oh, if it could be, if you could find it fit, and if we had the horses, I would offer you, O Queen, hard riding, and a humble couch at the end—not ease, but it would have this comfort, that we would then have our coming together not in Tisroc's palace, nor in my palace nor yours, nor in any palace at all, but alone in a green place, where once a good man lived...

"Susan! Susan... If it could be, if you could find it fit..."

She laughed aloud.

"No more of 'could' and 'would'! I _will_, and it will therefore happen! Trust _me_ for the horses, Lune!"

She pulled away a little, as if towards the door, and laughed again at him. "Think well, my lord King! Are you not daunted? You will be taking a woman who can _make_ happen what she will have happen! Trust _me_ for the horses!"

Then, her eyes alight now with a sort of mock-horrified laughter, "But we shall be too exhausted, my love, to do more than groan at each other!"

"You do not daunt me, Queen! And _too exhausted?_... no, _there_ I shall prove you wrong! I shall take—"

He checked himself then, and put down her hand, very deliberately, as if he did not dare to hold it any longer, as if that small taste of her body was like to overwhelm his restraint.

"This body is not a young man's body, but believe me, love, it is the more tempered for its years. Too exhausted?" He laughed. "I shall prove you wrong, _utterly_ wrong, prove you as we put each other to the proof, dear love. If we groan at each other, it will be in other pains than from the journey! And that is all my offer to you. Hard riding, and a humble couch, and this well-tempered old man's body. What do you say?"

"I say, my lord, that we had best leave _soon_. Meet me an hour before sunset at the northern gate of Tashbaan. We had best leave _soon_, because... Lune, _Lune!_ I can hardly keep myself from tearing the clothes from your wonderful, _wonderful_, not-a-young-man's body!"

**-oOo-**

**Author's note:** Of course, I would like to hear from readers!


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